


Longing

by Zenniet



Category: Transformers (IDW 2019), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21920623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: Though it started as a sense of mutual respect, Megatron soon finds his feelings for his fellow senator, Soundwave, to be snowballing into something unmanageable. That doesn't mean that he'll confess, though.
Relationships: Megatron/Soundwave
Kudos: 56





	Longing

Megatron was tired. He was tired all the time. The only scrap of information that he found to be at least somewhat motivating was that, at some point, all of this work would come to fruition. All the sneaking, the covert operations, the managing of every last detail of this plan just to make sure that nobody would catch on. One day, the Ascenticons would be in power, and the Nominus Edict would be long gone.

It was a stressful, exhausting task, but someone had to head the movement, and Megatron saw himself as the one most fit to do so. Though, Soundwave was a close second.  
That’s why he worked so closely with Megatron to move things along. The blue mech was one of the very few people who was allowed to know the inner workings of most, if not all, of Megatron’s plans and efforts concerning the Ascenticons and the power tip they were aiming for.

Inside of him, Megatron held a deep seated respect for his communications officer and fellow senator. He recognized that Soundwave was as good as, sometimes better than, he was in certain fields. Megatron knew that he needed Soundwave to stay on his side, for the sake of the campaign as well as for the sake of his own spark and processor.  
A fair bit of time had passed since Megatron realized that he carried more than just respect for the other. Even if it had started as just that, a gentle reverence for him, it had grown- mutated- into something more. Megatron still couldn’t decide if that change was welcome.

It was the need to have Soundwave near that prevented Megatron from saying anything about his true feelings. His processor spun in his helm every night. Gradually, his secrecy regarding his emotions became more arduous to maintain. It made his tanks twist when Soundwave would come by to report any progress and Megatron had to mentally, sometimes physically, remind himself that Soundwave was simply doing his job.

Megatron was seated at his desk this time, when Soundwave knocked shortly on the door before entering with his arms laden with datapads. Though it always left a bad taste in his mouth, he couldn’t stop his processor from bringing up the time when, not too long ago, Megatron was slamming his servos on Soundwave’s desk and screaming at him over… What even was it? ...Right, Barricade. Maybe it was just his appetence gnawing at him, but that incident didn’t even seem incredibly major anymore. More than the urgency of what the incident was originally, the remorse of becoming so irritable and angry was prominent in his mind.

“Sir, the approval ratings.” Soundwave delicately placed a datapad on the desk in front of Megatron, snapping him out of his thoughts. The screen was lit up with the graph that Megatron didn’t even have to look at to tell what it was saying. He already knew what Cybertronians thought of the Ascenticons, and the Rise for that matter. The gray mech folded his arms over his chassis and leaned back in his seat.

“Would you go over them, Soundwave?” He asked. “Please?” A smaller thought was tacked onto his sentence, and though Soundwave may not even realize it, Megatron intended to do every miniscule thing he could in order to improve whatever relationship there was between him and his communications officer. Even if it was still strictly professional. Megatron thought about instructing Soundwave to pull up a seat next to him, but something inside him told him that such an action may be crossing a line with the officer. Instead, he simply extended his arm with the datapad in an offering for Soundwave to read for him.

With a slight nod, Soundwave took the tablet from Megatron’s servo and began reviewing the results of the most recent poll. It was all information that Megatron had heard a million times before, the same thoughts iterated in expected numbers time and time again. But he would listen to Soundwave speak about anything, even the most boring, inane drivel he could imagine, so long as the officer remained in the same room.

Soundwave finished his relay of the information with a nod of affirmation and handed the datapad back over to Megatron.  
“Is that everything?” Soundwave asked with the slightest tilt of his helm, his visor casting a soft yellow light over the rest of the tablets in his arm. Megatron looked at what else Soundwave was carrying and waved towards the door.

“You must be busy. I will not keep you any longer.” He said, attempting to sound both compassionate and nonchalant. Either it was lost on Soundwave, or the mech decided not to make any note of it.

Soundwave gave a short gesture of farewell before heading back out the door and shutting it behind him, leaving Megatron to immediately sigh and bury his helm in his servos. His processor replayed and scrutinized their entire interaction. Had it been anything more than Soundwave delivering a report- which was the usual reason for him coming to Megatron’s office- Megatron would be locking the door and defiling the memory of their meeting and every prior one, just as he’d shamefully done a hundred times by now.

The room was quiet, no sound reaching Megatron’s audio receptors besides his own movements and the soft rumble made by the hustle and bustle of other Cybertronians making their way about the building and carrying on their usual tasks. He wondered what Soundwave was doing now, what else he had been tasked with besides tending to communications for Megatron.

As much as Soundwave served as a communications officer to him and the Ascenticons, and the Rise by extension, Megatron occasionally forgot that Soundwave was a senator, just like he was. He shouldn’t ask so much of him just to satisfy his own longing. Demanding that he go over things that Megatron should be able (and is able to) to cover on his own. Guilt and desire both swirled and fought in Megatron’s processor. He couldn’t possibly justify keeping Soundwave from his duties just so that he could ogle him and never make a move.

What would happen if he confessed? Again, as it had perpetually before, that thought occupied too much of Megatron’s processor for the rest of the day, nagging and pestering him even as he climbed onto his recharge slab.

Best scenario, if Megatron confessed his feelings, Soundwave would return them. Megatron would be relieved. As he lay on his slab, he felt himself growing less stressed at simply imagining such a situation. Soundwave feeling the same way as he did. His processor wandered, branching off of that thought and continuing it in an infinite number of ways, all of them good. Really good.

Megatron’s bottom lip was seized in his dentae and his cooling fans dialled up, despite his internal urging of his systems to calm down. His engine only gave him a low, defiant growl in response. His back pressed into his recharge slab and his servo rubbed at the back of his neck, the other gripping the edge of the metal slab. Anything to stop his thoughts from traveling in that particular direction.

Frag, what even was it about Soundwave that enticed him so much? Was it the attentiveness? How helpful he was? The fact that he actually entertained conversations with Megatron when many others wouldn’t even give him the time of day? Could this eruption of emotions simply be due to Soundwave being around Megatron for longer periods of time than other mechs? No, that couldn’t be it. Soundwave was special. Megatron wouldn’t let himself fall so hard for someone who didn’t have some innate detail that drew him to them, though he couldn’t say what exactly that detail was. Whatever it was, Soundwave had it.

Lost in his mental ramblings, Megatron finally gave the command to let his panels transform aside. The sudden relief of his spike at last being able to pressurize and his slick valve being met with the cool air of his room ripped a gasp from him. His whole frame shivered at the sensation of his interface sensors coming online to probing digits parting his sensitive valve mesh.  
Even if he wanted to, which was a desire that he’d decided to abandon, he couldn’t stop his processor from bombarding him with “what if”s and conjuring up images of Soundwave. Soundwave under him, permitting Megatron access to his frame to feel and hold and use however he see fit. Soundwave above him, taking Megatron down a peg and watching him squirm and arch at each much needed touch.

Megatron would be willing to take anything as long as it came from Soundwave. He squeezed his optics shut and pushed two thick digits into his valve, his lubricant quickly coating them.  
He imagined what a desperate picture he must make. Biting his lip, optics shut, cheeks flushed and coolant already making his plating shine while he fingerfucks his valve with a fervor nobody had ever seen from him. His other servo released the edge of the recharge slab, seeming to favor his spike over continuing to press deep dents into his place of recharge.

His fist worked his length, gripping almost too tight- and it would be too tight for some- but with his processor swimming with lust and guilt and just a little bit of worry, it’s perfect for him. His engine snarls a low note, and his cooling fans blast in his audio receptors. As an afterthought, he tries to remember if he actually locked the door on the way in. Not that anyone would dare enter his room, much less without knocking, but a small part of him couldn’t help but want someone to catch him in this act. If Soundwave would walk through that door, he could finally live out that fantasy that he’s had pestering him for so long.

A dark pit of heat pooled in his abdominals at the thought of being walked in on by the very mech he was fantasizing. How would Soundwave look at him, then? Would he regard him with disdain and leave the room? Would he want to watch? Primus, would he ask to join in?

Megatron couldn’t imagine his communications officer being so scandalous and forward. No, not the Soundwave he knew. The mech he knew never showed any sign of any lust, and hardly any tells of emotions either. Maybe that was what drew Megatron to him so.

His digits pumped harder in his valve, a frenzy of motion that surely made a mess of his inner thighs and his berth. Despite that, Megatron couldn’t bear the thought of slowing down, even at the risk of the uncoordination and the knowledge that he was dirtying his berth with his lubricant. His venting grew shaky and labored, raucous huffs of hot hair to accompany his shaking frame.  
It didn’t take long for Megatron to approach his overload, though at times like this it rarely did. His back arched violently off the recharge slab and his thighs trembled and tensed. With an unflattering whine from his engine and vocalizer, he spilled over his servo in hot, uneven streaks that coated his digits as he pumped his spike and painted his chassis with his transfluid. His valve throbbed and clenched down around his aggressive digits, trying to milk them of transfluid that he wouldn’t receive.

His vocalizer shorted and warbled out a cry before his charge tapered off and his frame flopped back down onto the recharge slab. His whole body heaved with his panting breaths, pausing to shiver when he withdrew his sticky, soiled digits from his valve. As he looked at the slick pink fluid that streaked his chassis and servos, he expected to feel some kind of relief. Instead, all that was brought upon him was shame. A deep seated disgust with himself for following through with such depravity while thinking of his fellow senator. His friend.

Megatron rolled over onto his side, not bothering to get up to clean himself off. He would take care of that with the rise of the sun, even though he knew that cleaning the aftermath from the sticky joints of his digits, he figured that it would be easier to deal with than to wake himself back up and face the thoughts that his processor had for him.

He let himself drift into recharge the same way that he always did, after something like that. To the impossible fantasy of Soundwave returning his feelings, and to the image of that gentle yellow glow of the mech’s visor, regarding him with the same passion and respect and care that Megatron gave to him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to request something, you can do so through my tumblr at zenniet.tumblr.com!


End file.
